


All I Need

by Ethereaal



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: A Bit of Fluff, Depression, F/M, First-fic, Hope, Loki cuddles, One-Shot, Pls dun judge meh, Sad, Self-Harm, homeless Reader, reassurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9307379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereaal/pseuds/Ethereaal
Summary: When the shadows consumed you and tried to drag you back into the hell that is your mind,he comes like a brilliant spark of hope;and saves you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Ello people :) This is my first ever fic! So please, please, please don't judge me too harsh for this, though constructive criticism is always welcomed.
> 
> I also posted it on Deviant Art, if you wanna check it out it's here --> http://arina-nyx.deviantart.com/art/All-I-Need-659551007
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters. All rights belong to Marvel Comics.
> 
> Listen to: All I Want — Kodaline  
> (the song is so perfect for this)
> 
> So this is a self-harm fic, anyone who don't want to read these kinds of stories, don't. I'll put another trigger warning at the beginning.  
> I hope you like it :P

**Trigger Warning:**  Self-harm, depression

 

 

You shuddered as another wave of pain rolled over you. It was a chilly night; the moon glowed outside your half-covered window. The eerie calm around you made you feel strange because the raging storm of thoughts inside you certainly isn't peaceful at all. 

**Pathetic.**

**Why are you so weak.**

**What the fuck are you doing with your life?**

Each word is like a punch in the gut, making you struggle for air as tears continue to pour from your (E/C) eyes. The misery and loneliness were swallowing you bit by bit.

**Completely worthless.**

**You are a disappointment.**

**Homeless bitch.**

Disemployment, economic failure, failure in yourself; you name it. But you were nonetheless, homeless.

Since you were childhood friends with the one and only Bruce Banner, he asked Tony to give you a home in the tower, without much persuasion. He just took one look at you and said yes. His face gave away nothing, but you saw it in that 0.1 second: pity. You didn't know why Bruce helped you. Sure, you guys were close, but that was at least 15 years ago. You reckon he'd already forgotten about you.

**Maybe he just pitied you as well. But you seem like you do need some, don't you?**

You remembered how you two were―inseparable. You went to the same elementary school together; Bruce was the smart kid, you were the people person. But after you had to move away, you went to another school, then you and Bruce grew distant. And eventually, you both moved on.

Soon after that, though, you happened to find a certain young, black-haired boy wandering in the streets in front of your new house. Despite you two never introduced, he still knew your name, somehow.

 _"Hello (Y/N), a pleasure to meet you,"_ he said, grinning.

You two became quick friends. And you were very glad to have someone who'd fill the hole that Bruce had left. Still, he wouldn't tell you his name, so you started calling him "Raven" because of his hair. He just chuckled but said nothing. After a while, though, he began visiting less and less, claiming he had "important matters to attend to." But you just shook your head, saying it's fine. A few days later, he disappeared without a trace―no note, no goodbye, no nothing. You were baffled and started to blame yourself. Two of your closest friends you've ever had had left.

**Was it your fault? Maybe they had gotten sick of you.**

As days went by, the situation got worse: your parents had died in a car crash. You were immediately transported to the nearest orphanage. Those "officials" and your so-called family members discussed your mom and dad's fortune and your adoption. But you didn't care; your sixteen-year-old-self knew that there were no people there who'd waste their precious time on you without involving money.

From then on, you felt yourself going slower―not just walking, it was like your entire body just got drained; you've had trouble remembering things that you shouldn't have forgotten, and that tiny seed of hopelessness planted inside you grew larger. The constant sadness and occasional emptiness that kept weighing you down were as heavy as lead.

Even though you were very aware of this demon living inside of you, you did nothing―you couldn't―to stop it. What were you supposed to do? Tell the head of the orphanage that you were " _very sad and needed to see a doctor_ "? As long as the government is paying them, they wouldn't let one kid out of their sight; not willingly anyway. And even if you got out there, you don't have money; it would be just as useless.

Without the help from friends nor family, it got worse; so bad, that you had to sneak several blades into your pint-sized room in the orphanage. You just couldn't take it anymore.

**Blades.**

The voice's sharpness jerked you back into reality.

**Blades.**

"No no no no no..." You shook your head violently, trying to tell the voices to quiet down. You promised yourself you would never do it again...

**Get the blades _now_. It's the only thing that can help you.**

"No, it isn't!" You shouted, a spark of fury flaring up inside you. But it died down quickly when you realized that the voices were right. "No, it isn't..." You repeated, choking it out.

Hauling yourself up, you stood in front of the mirror. The creature facing you was not the beautiful, bright girl that your parents had once loved; this was a scarred, defeated, freak who no one liked. You stepped closer, putting your hand shakily on your reflection, your lips couldn't help but pull into a sad grimace.

 _Chapped lips, frizzled (H/L) (H/C) hair, pulled up sleeves revealing trails of scars, rivulets lined your cheeks like tiny river streams, large bags hanging underneath your (E/C) orbs, still shining with unwept tears, eyes empty empty **empty**_ ―

You let out a small cry and turned away.

 _That is me?_  You thought, horrified. It has been a while since you last looked at yourself in a mirror.

**What a monster. No wonder no one likes you.**

**That's how you look like?! Then you really need a few more scars as decoration.**

At those words, the unshed tears rolled down your face. Sinking down on the floor, you held your head with your hands, pleading.

"Please... Please help me," You whimpered, "Please, I don't want to do this..." Begging for whatever god or higher being that was out there. You looked through your window, up at the fluorescent moon and the handful of stars that were in the night sky. But of course, a few chunk of rocks in space aren't going to grant you a miracle.

**No one's helping. No one's coming. That's how it always was. That's how it always will be.**

**You are alone. Oh so alone.**

**Do it, do it now.**

Whatever will you had in you, snapped. This has been one of the worst episodes you've ever had in your life. You've already been struggling for the past 4 hours (at least), why keep fighting? 

So you staggered towards you drawer, reaching for the top one―the one you promised you'd never open again. Inside, the container was empty, except for the farthest right corner. There, sat a little blue box with a lock. 

After six months, seeing the box again made your thoughts rush.

_Oh god._

_Am I actually doing this?_

But you ignored them and shoved your hand in the drawer, groping for the box.

_I want this. I want this._

_I **need**  this._

You didn't even bother to find the key, you just picked the box up and smashed it on the ground―hard. The silver blades inside fell to the floor with several soft clangs. Trembling slightly, you picked up one of them, closed your eyes and waited. 

**Do it, you fool.**

_Slice._  You opened your eyes and forced yourself to look at your arm. A long, shallow red cut ran horizontally on your wrist, next to one of the cuts you've made before. Your body protested against the burning sensation, but your mind sighed in relief―it felt so good.

**Insecure.**

_Slice._

**Worthless.**

_Slice._

**You'll die alone.**

_Slice._

Word after word, you found yourself slicing deeper and further down your arm, your head getting queasier than ever. The blood on your arm started to drip and stain the carpet, but you didn't care; this made you feel  _good_.

But a sudden interruption caused you to froze.

"Hello?" Said a smooth voice. Why did it sound vaguely familiar?

You could see a lean male silhouette pushing open your door, ( _wait, didn't I lock it?_ ) the light from outside illuminating his face. You could see him now, isn't this―

"Raven?!" Your mouth fell open. The unexpected shock blocked away the voices.

"Is that you, (Y/N)?" You could hear he wasn't expecting to see you, either.

How and why the heck is Raven in the Avengers Tower? Was he friends with them? Was he an Avenger himself? But one thing's for sure; you cannot, would not,  _should not_  let him see the state you were in. So you backed further away into the dark, praying that he would stop stepping any closer. But he didn't need to step any closer; Raven could see you perfectly right where he was standing.

And he could feel his heart shattering.

You were a heap of limbs, slumped against the wall furthest away from the door. Your hair was messy and disheveled. Raven could just see the small glint of the blade you were trying to hide; then his eyes moved to the blood stains on the floor. He felt his breath hitched.

"What are you doing, (Y/N)." He wanted to sound like he was asking you a simple question, but his voice shook. He just needed to know, to hear from your lips, that this wasn't what he thought it was.

"Nothing, just..." You trailed away, thinking of what to say, "What are you doing here?"

"Answer my question."

"Answer  _my_  question."

"I asked first."

"I asked second."

Despite everything, you could feel yourself grinning, just a little bit. Remembering the way you two were always having these playful little arguments; that made you realize how much you missed him.

"So. Are you going to talk?" Raven asked.

"I won't unless you answer me first."

Raven huffed but agreed. After a few moments, he sighed, "It's rather complicated. I don't exactly know where to start."

You gave him what you hoped was a reassuring smile, and said, "Well, I have all day."

So he told you.

He told you―finally―that his real name was Loki, Loki of Asgard, about the nine realms, how he tried to take over the Earth ("You WHAT?" You almost screamed. "It's more complex than that, I'll explain later." Loki looked away awkwardly.), his powers, the Avengers, that he can't go with them on their mission because they don't trust him yet―all the while wearing a weary expression, flicking glances at you now and then.

When he was finally done, you soaked it all in. It made sense now, his sudden disappearance and his dwindling visits. Then he sat down a few feet away from you and took a deep breath, his voice shaking just a bit, "Okay, it's your turn to talk."

All at once, your thoughts started to race again.

_Should I tell him?_

_How would he take it?_

_But I haven't seen him in so long... Can I trust him?_

_Is he even going to accept me?_

**No one is ever going to accept you, freak.**

Your fist clenched at that voice. Inhaling a gulp of courage, you spoke. Then came the words, spilling from your lips―they couldn't stop. You finally had the chance to tell someone about your battles and pain and agony; you weren't going to waste it. You started from the beginning, how you had to move away and leave Bruce behind, how you felt when he vanished (You swore he looked guilty), about your parent's death and the orphanage. But you started to mumble when you reached the part about your depression and self-harm. You were ashamed and repentant that you needed a blade to feel satisfied.

Yet, he never looked at you with shame. He was just... listening. Taking in every detail of your experience, his gaze never leaving yours. His manner was hard to read even after you finished―it was neither sympathy nor pity, it was something your brain just couldn't pinpoint; though it was warm and soft while making you feel safe at the same time.

His eyes lingered at you for a few more seconds, then he stood up and murmured, "Wait here."

Just before the voices could devour you again, he came back. Looking up, you saw him holding a cup of steaming tea, a towel, and a bundle of what looked like his pyjamas.

Wordlessly, he lifted up your arm and started to dab gently on the cuts, cleaning away the dried blood. You searched his face, although he was trying hard not to meet your eyes, you saw him holding back his own tears. Astonished, you leaned against the wall and let him continued.

_Is he... crying for you?_

You didn't even notice when he was done, not even when he left to change into his pyjamas. You were too busy thinking about why someone would sit in front of you, and clean  _your_  freaking  _cuts_. When Loki came back, he handed you the slightly cooled tea to your lips. Your hands automatically held it and drank, aimlessly feeling as the warm tea trickled down your throat.

Then carefully, he pried the cup from your fingers and set it on your bedside table. He stood up, holding you at his arm's length, trying to get you to stand up, "Here. The bed might be better than the floor."

You barely registered as you were laid on the bed. It was until you felt the heat spreading did you finally regarded that you were in his arms.

And you stared.

Because here was Loki, in all his black-haired and green-eyed godliness, _embracing_  you. You wanted to ask why; why he would do this for you. Why these forgotten feelings came back and were hitting you like a tide. Then without warning, tears started to flow―relief, sadness, happiness, hurt, gratefulness, confusion―from your eyes, wetting your cheeks once again.

You half expected Loki to recoil ~~in disgust~~ , but he didn't. He just hugged you tighter, his silence a comfort rather than his words. All night long, he cradled you, letting you flood out your emotions. This was when you realized that you didn't need someone to understand, nor to sympathize with you. You just needed someone to be  _there_.

When the mellow sunlight shredded through the night, and your eyes were closed, you could still feel his warmth by your side.

┈┈ ❋ ┈┈

The light outside shone brightly, piercing your eyelids and causing your eyes to flutter open. You looked out the window, the colors in the sky seemed extra brilliant today. Contented, you sighed and turned around in the sheets, finding your drowsy orbs meeting rich green ones. Loki.

 _He's still here..._ Your heart shouted with relief.  _He's actually still here..._

Loki had woken up a few minutes before you did, and was surprised to see you both were in the same position as last night―except you were facing away from him. He could still see your features, though. And oh boy, how he admired them. You looked so peaceful, rivulets adorning your face with a small grin tugged at the side of your lips. He longed to softly shake you awake, whispering a sweet endearment just to see that beautiful smile of yours. 

Once you did wake up, though, Loki's heart nearly melted. You were looking at him with such an intense gaze, a gaze that seemed to speak more than words do. Amidst the swirling pools of your (E/C) eyes, he could see you were surprised―and glad―to know that he was still beside you.

 _You silly, silly mortal. Why would I ever want to leave_ again _?_

Impetuously, his hand reached out and gently traced the streams your tears made. He started to wonder how many of these dreadful nights you had to endure to finally have one that ended happily.

"I do not understand this, you know." Loki blurted out abruptly.

"Don't understand what?" You asked.

He continued to let his finger follow the streams, "This." Then his hand drifted downward to pick up your scarred wrist, "This." His free left hand moved up to brush against your forehead, "And this."

You blinked, confused.  "W-what do you mean?" _He's not planning to reject me, is he?_

"It's just... Up on Asgard, we've never had this kind of problem. Asgardians fight using spears, swords, and knives. Yet, here you are, hand empty, but won a war we could never have." Loki said, his voice soft. "You have no idea how much I respect Midgardians for that―especially you. We battle monsters; you battle  _your own mind_ , filled with invisible fiends that are just as deadly as they are. It is just very... remarkable."

Your jaw went slack. Coming from Loki, that is a very, very sincere compliment.

"You're saying you... appreciate us?" He nodded. 

Although you were astounded, to say the least, you grinned, "Then you must be real glad to have me here then."

Loki chuckled, "Yes, indeed I am." His arms snaked around you to pull you closer. He was running his fingers through your hair when you giggled―rather loudly too. Curious, he raised an eyebrow in question.

"You know, earlier, when I was still struggling, I thought of something." You started.

He just raised his eyebrow higher to tell you to continue.

Your expression turned sheepish, "Well, I might have thought about something along the lines of 'begging for whatever god or higher being that was out there'." But once the words were out, you were thrown into a fit of laughter when you saw both of Loki's eyebrows flying up.

"No, no, it's not something against you," You kept giggling, "Maybe the stars finally heard my prayers and sent you to me." 

Recovered from the shock, his signature mischievous smirk stretched across his face, "Maybe they did..." But then you noticed he was trying to crouch down, both of his arms were extended―a pose that made your eyes widen in fear.

"Oh no. Oh  _hell_ no. You're not doing that, not again. Get away from me!" You put your hands in front of you defensively, a smile pulling at your lips.

Smirking even wider than before, he resumed, "... But did they expect  _this_?!" And he pounced on you.

The Tickle Fight almost threw you off the bed. Though, in the end, you two were in each other's arms again, laughing wildly.

"I've missed you," You touched his cheek.

"I've missed you more."

You smiled, basking in the warmth of the moment. Then your thoughts drifted to the change in your demeanor―joy, hope, and most of all,  _love_ ―these are feelings that you thought were buried inside you already. Somehow, against all the odds, you made it through hell alive. You were suddenly filled with expectations for the future, for all the wonderful things you might be experiencing soon, you finally had a chance now. 

Against all the odds, again, Loki came back into your life, he was the center of it all once more. You marveled at the very thought of him, how he was still here, how he helped you―something no one had done in a long, long time.

Looking beside you, at this gorgeous being that you didn't deserve, you know that this is all you need.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos for me? <3 Comments makes me happy too
> 
> I'm sorry if I don't know how you'd feel if your parents died. I'm sorry for the shitty structure. I'm sorry for the weak vocabulary. I'm sorry for the teeny writing (even though I *am* a teen)... But I still hope you enjoyed it :D
> 
> Sorry if this was too long, lol. Words just came flowing out of my fingertips, hehe.
> 
> Remember, if you're battling depression or any other mental illness, don't give up! You're never alone, alright? I'm right here if you want to talk about it. Don't litter your beautiful skin with scars, please.


End file.
